Project Sablier: Discovery
by Isabelle Ashmore
Summary: No. No, this isn't possible. There's no way she could actually be in the Star Wars galaxy. Where she comes from, it's supposed to be fiction...and yet here she is. Somehow, she's now stuck in the life of Ahsoka Tano, in a war-torn galaxy that's barreling towards a disastrous future: the fall of Anakin Skywalker.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, everyone! Yes, this is the re-write of _Natalia Tanner: Discovery_...no, no, wait, please don't click out! I promise I've gone back and made it 10x better than before...like, the Star Wars scenes actually start in Chapter 1...**

 **Better? Okay, good. I thought so. ;)**

 **When I first started working on this fanfic, I hadn't actually read much of other people's** **fanfiction, but obviously I have now, so I've learned. If you stick with me, I think you may end up liking this series. :) It will eventually deal with themes such as fate vs. free will, and whether you should attempt to change a bad future if it involves the risk of inadvertently making it even more disastrous.**

 **In any case, thanks for reading! (Oh, and by the way...if you've already read the original version, you can skip the prologue and go straight to Chapter 1. If not, welcome aboard!)**

* * *

 _To my sister, who leaned over to me at the opera and whispered, "Have you ever heard the tale of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"_

 _"The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes." -Marcel Proust_

 _"Mistakes are the portals of discovery." -James Joyce_

* * *

 **Prologue**

A young girl slips through crowds of pedestrians, unnoticed, always on her toes and never letting him out of her sight. _Where is he leading me?_ she thinks, anxious to learn the answer after so many months of careful observation. Not spying, exactly…more like a secretive way of obtaining information. And she's made it so far, she is determined not to be caught now.

The man, the one she is following, does not seem to notice that he is being stalked. Casually, he makes his way through the crowds as well, before turning into an empty alleyway. The girl smiles to herself, thrilled by her discovery. _He_ is _up to something,_ she thinks, somewhat relieved her suspicions were correct. She pushes past a few pedestrians and peers into the alleyway.

The man looks as though he is holding a small object in his right hand, and the girl squints at it, wondering about its significance and what it is in the first place. She leans forward a little, straining to make out the item, but, disappointed, learns she still cannot see anything. She was, quite honestly, hoping for—no, _expecting_ —something a little more, something to prove that her efforts were not in vain. _Maybe I was wrong the entire time,_ she thinks. _Maybe this is nothing, and that's why no one else noticed._

She almost turns away, but then the entire alleyway is illuminated by a blinding light. The girl nearly gasps but stops herself just in time. When her eyes begin to ache from the brightness, she looks away and returns her gaze to the alleyway a moment later. But now she can hardly see the man—the light has become truly blinding—and she has to squint to make out his shape.

Something else appears, suspended in thin air, though the girl is not sure what it is. In all her years of training and studying, she has never seen anything quite like it. It bears a likeness to a tapestry, but without thread and fabric; instead, it's made up of different colours of _light_ , all woven together, purples and oranges and greens and blues. _Is that even possible?_ the girl thinks, frowning.

The tapestry grows larger and, somehow, more beautiful. Additional colours appear, freely intertwining themselves amongst preexistent ones. Wind, which began as a harmless breeze, becomes stronger and almost blows off the girl's hood. She grabs it to prevent it from flying off, then spares a moment to quickly glance over her shoulder. To her surprise, the pedestrians are still going about their own business, paying no attention to the fantastic scene happening only a few feet away from them.

It's almost as though nothing is happening at all.

Her heart rate skyrockets, and the young girl whips around, partially dreading the discovery that she somehow conjured everything in her imagination. But the man is still standing in the alleyway, his figure dark against the gleaming light, his cloak rippling around his ankles.

The wind dies down and the light becomes dimmer, so she is finally able to see without squinting. She watches carefully as the man reaches towards the tapestry, with the cautiousness of someone who believes it could bite him. When she realizes that she is holding her breath, she exhales as quietly as possible. Getting caught now is not an option. Not when she has made it so close, she gets to see his shaky hand hover next to the interwoven lights…and then witness him pressing his palm against the tapestry.

A sharp yelp immediately pierces the air, and he yanks back his hand. A moment or two pass. Then, once again, he reaches to touch only the tips of his fingers to the tapestry. The girl waits, refusing to blink, watching as he carefully, ever so carefully, slides his hand… _through_.

 _A portal!_ The girl covers her mouth with both hands, blinking rapidly to make sure she's seeing right. _I thought those didn't even exist._

The man draws back his hand, examines it, and then whispers something. The girl leans in, trying to make out the words, but murmurs from the streets and her distance from the man make it impossible to hear. She frowns in disappointment before realizing that he is now beginning to step _into_ the portal, disappearing as he does so. She watches in amazement, unable to tear her eyes away from the magnificent, impossible sight. When the man is gone at last, she is left peering into the alleyway, tears brimming in her eyes, wishing she could believe it was just a dream. But the tapestry— _portal_ —is still at the end of the alleyway, and it gives her a cruel, shimmering wink.

The girl hugs herself, noticing for the first time that she is shaking. She takes a moment to let the events of the last few minutes sink in, but she still cannot process them. _I should go now,_ she thinks desperately. _I've probably seen too much already._

But, deep down, she knows that her life will never be normal again, even if she did turn around now. How could she ever live a normal life, after witnessing something so unexplainable? So _impossible_?

Fleeting memories of her work over the past few months flit through her mind—staying up late to frantically jot down notes, telling countless lies to avoid being discovered, becoming caught up in her frustration, unable to make sense of her clues—and her legs decide for her, carrying their owner over to the still-glowing portal. She is pulled towards it, a magnet of beauty, and in her thirst for knowledge, she hardly notices that she has lost control.

Even if she did notice, she wouldn't care.

Everything else fades away as she approaches the portal. She is captivated by it, unable to turn away from it, and her dread turns to sudden glee. She has found it. She has finally discovered what the man was working on for so long. And all it would take to learn more would just be to walk into the portal and finally get all the answers.

As if in a trance, the young girl brushes her fingertips against the portal, creating iridescent ripples. She can't understand why it seemed so painful for the man to touch it. For her, it's like silk, soft and smooth and ever so lovely, and she adores the feel of it against her fingers. With a carefree laugh, she strikes the portal again, as though it's a musical instrument and she's the musician, playing a chord.

Then, at the mercy of her curiosity, the girl carefully places one foot into the portal. It vanishes and she gasps with delight. Testing the waters, she feeds it her hand as well and remains still for a few moments. When nothing more happens, she decides it's safe to enter and glances around to make sure she is not being watched.

Then she takes a deep breath.

And she walks inside.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Natalia**

 _I_ _'m not on Earth._

My mind screams that sentence over and over until the repetition renders it meaningless. _I'm not on Earth I'm not on Earth I'm not on Earth. Listen to yourself, Natalia! Why can't you understand that—_

That what? That I've woken up in someone else's body on a different planet? That should be impossible. It _should_ be. And impossible means that it cannot come to pass. No matter what happens, it can't…

 _It can't._

And yet, smushed between two blinds, the rectangular truth stretches before me. Sleek-looking vehicles fill the air, whizzing past each other in orderly lines, and spiraling buildings, each of which is thousands of stories tall, glitter in the golden light of dawn. I tighten my fingers around the windowsill and just barely manage to keep myself from throwing up. _No._ There's no way I'm looking at New York City. There's no way I'm looking at Earth. Nowhere in the world are there buildings this tall, or vehicles which are at eye level when you yourself are multiple stories above the ground…

 _"_ _No,"_ I whisper, then jump at the sound of my own voice. Even that isn't the same. Panic wells up inside of me, and I turn around and slide down the wall, pulling my knees up to my chest.

 _I'm not on Earth._

No. No, no, no, I have to be. How on earth would I _not_ be on Earth? I try to take deep breaths, but I become too painfully aware of the tears brimming in my eyes and the room around me and my yearning to scream that I can never seem to satisfy. Screw deep breaths. How can I be expected to take deep breaths? I'm either going crazy, or…

Or…

Maybe at first glance, everything would look normal. Knee-high red boots and white leggings, not too strange if you're willing to ignore the fact that all of my boots are black and I was wearing an evening dress when I was last conscious. But instead of wavy, dark brown locks, _lekku_ tumble over my shoulders, and I can feel these little bumps on top of my head, and my hearing is strange, sharper, sort of echoey, and oh no oh no oh no.

That's not even to mention the continual presence of the sword on my belt. I can't help but notice the way it brushes against my hip when I shift my weight, refusing to let me forget that it's there. I know it's not a sword, really, or at least not a normal one, but it helps to think of it like that. _Anything that helps, Natalia,_ I tell myself, trying—desperately—to hold onto that name. _Natalia Tanner. Natalia Tanner. Ahsoka Tano._

I wince and slap myself on the arm, then surprise myself with how much it hurts and do it again, just because the pain distracts me. _Ahsoka._ Her name works its way back into my mind, and I shake my head, as though that could get it to go away. _Ahsoka Tano._ Ahsoka Tano isn't even in the movies, but she's in a television show set between Episodes II and III that depicts the events of the Clone Wars. It's been so long since I've seen that show, which makes it difficult to remember all the specifics about her.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall, trying to think, but I spend too much time worrying about thinking and not enough time actually focusing on coming up with a solution. _This is probably a dream_ is, unsurprisingly, the first thing that my mind comes up with. I kind of knew all along that somehow I would try to talk myself into believing this, because the only other sensible option is that I'm going crazy.

But then there are the non-sensible options, which are hovering in my subconscious, waiting for me to consider them. I make a half effort to block them from the forefront of my mind, not completely sure if allowing them in would count as surrendering to my desperation or my insanity or both.

 _This could be real._

Again, I cringe. There. I allowed myself to think it. Now I bury it and forget it and never think it again.

But that's not an option, either, because I'm still here. I open my eyes and shut them and then open them again, only to find that I still haven't been miraculously delivered home. I'm here. Wherever and whatever _here_ is.

I'm trapped. I don't fully believe that this is a dream and I can't bring myself to believe it's real. I put my head back in my hands, the best position because it blocks my view of pretty much everything.

Then I try to think for the longest time.

I can't.

* * *

I don't know how long it takes me to finally decide to leave Ahsoka's chambers, but I do manage to talk myself into it. Admittedly, I'm reluctant at first. It's much easier to just wait, even if I'm not sure what I'm waiting _for_. Actually venturing out is like confessing that this isn't temporary, that it's become necessary for me to get a feel for my surroundings.

The hallways are long, elegant, and airy, complete with tall windows and warm natural light that bathes everyone and everything inside. Occasionally, someone passes by, but I keep my head down and they don't pay me any attention. That's good. If they did, I'm not sure what I would say to them.

I'm not even really sure what I want to say to myself.

I flick my eyes upward so that I can glance around the Jedi Temple—the _Jedi Temple_ —and almost laugh in spite of myself. After all, I do consider myself a _Star Wars_ fan. I would be lying if I said that I had never imagined being transported to a galaxy far, far away. Still, the prequels weren't exactly what I had in mind. In my daydreams, I would take on the Empire in my free time, become an expert at lightsaber combat over a matter of hours, and hang out with Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia regularly. I never considered the psychological implications of something like that actually happening to me, and I certainly never stopped to wonder how I would get back home, because I never expected such an event to indeed occur—not in a million years.

And yet…here I am.

 _You're getting ahead of yourself, Natalia,_ I silently scold myself. _You still don't know if this is real or not._

My pace quickens. If I don't know if this is real or not, how should I decide what to do next? I reach for my left hand and start to yank on my fingers, then realize I've never been so happy—so _relieved_ —to perform the nervous habit that I've been trying for months to break. My delight over its familiarity unnerves me a bit.

The hallway that I'm walking through leads into a palatial, two-story room, which is filled with more Jedi than I've seen so far in total, let alone in just one place. I chew restlessly on my bottom lip and cross to the rail, which overlooks the main level. The second floor is hefted onto the shoulders of the first by broad, sturdy arches. Cloaks swish and whisk behind me as Jedi rush past slender Corinthian columns, marble statues, and stained glass windows. The architecture rings a vague bell, maybe of a museum I went to visit with Christina and some of my Jodian Academy classmates. My heart hurts when I think about home, and the Jodia, and _Christina_ , and that hard feeling forms in my throat, the kind you get whenever you're about to cry. I did cry earlier, for only a few minutes, but it still drained all of my energy, leaving me with the dizzying sensation that I hadn't slept in days. Instead, I blink rapidly, trying to fight back tears, and grip the rail a little tighter.

"Ahsoka," someone says, and I whip around, vaguely surprised that I instinctively respond to that name. I have to grasp the rail even harder when we meet eyes. The man who called for Ahsoka could be Ewan McGregor on the set of _Revenge of the Sith_ , he looks so much like him. Well, he looks how he looked over ten years ago, but still. It's freaky.

"Master Kenobi." I have to keep myself from cringing when I say his name. I should never have had to address somebody like that. It feels almost shameful, as if I've reverted to playing a childish make-believe game. "How have you been?" I continue anyway, pushing aside my own insecurities. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," he says slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Anakin has been looking for you everywhere. He told me that he tried to reach you via your comlink, but you didn't respond."

I vaguely remember hearing a beeping noise while I was in Ahsoka's chambers, a soft underscore to my hard breathing and quiet sobs and whirling thoughts. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time and almost passed it off as being normal, since I wasn't exactly thinking clearly. Now, though, the absence of the comlink—which I obviously forgot to attach to my wrist before leaving the room—almost nags at me. It shouldn't. It's not like I've ever had to remember to wear a piece of fictional _Star Wars_ tech before. "I think I left it in my chambers," I admit, flicking my eyes downward like I'm looking at my wrist to check.

"Hmm." Obi-Wan firms his lips and does the same. He's most likely thinking that I'm irresponsible, but he also doesn't know what I've just been through. "You're becoming more and more like your master by the day, Ahsoka," he muses. "Speaking of which, he's waiting for you on the training ground. I'll communicate to him that I've found you."

 _Where exactly is that?_ I think, but refrain from speaking that question aloud. "Thank you, Master Kenobi." I don't like the way those words taste in my mouth, or how my stomach feels as if it's trying to rip itself to pieces. My legs can't quite hold me up, either, which forces me to keep leaning more of my weight against the railing.

My throat tightens, so I take a few deep breaths that don't help. _Calm down,_ I remind myself. _Calm down, now. You're going to be fine, Natalia._

Even though I'm only lying to myself, I still feel a bit guilty.

Obi-Wan starts to walk away from me and I watch him go, wondering what I'm supposed to do next. I don't even know my way around the Temple yet. I almost pull aside a random Jedi—preferably a Padawan, or someone around my age—to ask them where the training ground is, but then Obi-Wan turns back around and calls out to me. "Ahsoka, aren't you coming?"

Some of the tightness in my throat goes away. "Yes," I say, jogging to catch up with him. I worry that I may have made my relief too obvious when Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows, but he turns back around after only a moment.

He leads me through a few more hallways, trying to make small talk with me the whole time—How am I doing? Do I think that Anakin's a good fit for me? What is it like, having my training take place over the course of such a large conflict?—and I do the best I can, considering that I don't know what year I'm in and have no means of telling what's already happened from what is still yet to come. I try to step around Obi-Wan's questions and instead ask him about himself, then get all kinds of stories about _his_ Padawan years.

It only takes him a few minutes to escort me to the training ground, which, despite the fact that Anakin said he would wait for me here, is empty. I close my eyes, relishing the coolness of the breeze on the back of my neck, the warmth of the sun on my skin. It reminds me of a time I can't revisit, one that happened only a week ago but already feels years old.

* * *

"So you went back to the gardens. Again."

I stared at Christina, my eyes wide. She had scarcely even looked my way yet, her gaze locked on her textbooks instead. Long strands of black hair had fallen over her eyes as she'd been studying, and she hadn't even brushed them behind her shoulder yet—a testament to her impossibly intent focus.

"How did you know?" I asked.

She snorted, finally bothering to look up from her book, and pointed towards something behind me. "The coat."

I whipped around to face the coatrack, where I had just hung up the aforementioned item. "It's not a coat," I corrected her. "It's a _jacket_."

She shrugged, flicking her gaze back down to the page. "Natalia, you know you're the only person who could wear a _jacket_ in September, right?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. Christina knew all too well about my cold weather sensitivity, and she never grew tired of teasing me about it.

"Plus, you were gone _way_ too long to be at the library," she added. "I know you, Talia. You're never able to stand it for more than five minutes—"

"I _did_ go to the library," I insisted, tossing my stack of books onto her bed; I had the top bunk but couldn't throw that high. "And I just happened to go to the gardens, too, all right? Sometimes, I just need a break from…"

Her expression softened, and I trailed off. "From what? The war?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I plopped down onto her bed, crossed my legs, and picked up one of the library textbooks. "Where are the others?"

"Training outside, I think." When I shot her a pointed look, she shook her head. "You've been spending too much time on combat training, Natalia. Our roommates haven't. Now focus. Those texts won't hit themselves."

I cracked open the book. The pages were yellowed, fragile, and had a tendency to stick together—not a good combination for somebody hoping to not rip them. "Still trying to turn me into an Intellectual, Christina?"

She laughed. "Don't offend me. You will _never_ be an Intellectual."

"I know. But neither will anyone else in this dorm. All the other girls are Combatants, too. Paige told me so, and she conducted a poll."

Christina sighed. "Natalia, are you studying?"

"Yes."

"You're not."

"I am! I'm holding a textbook and I'm reading it."

"You're not reading. You're skimming."

I flicked my gaze upwards so I could see her. "Tina, I'm doing well at the Academy. I'm at the top of my class. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

She bit her lip, propping her head on her hands. "I know. I…just want to look out for you."

A palpable silence settled over the room. "Yeah. Me, too," I admitted, a moment later. I was older than Christina by six minutes, so sometimes I felt like I was responsible for her. Unfortunately, she felt the same way about me.

"You're a little bit reckless sometimes, and you get distracted easily," she said, counting off her typical main points on her fingers. "You also worry me when you act like schoolwork bores you."

"Well, it's not like…it's just…" I struggled to find adequate means to describe it. "I don't really see the point of sitting around, reading information I'll never use. It's a waste of time, Christina."

She cocked a slender eyebrow. "So you think that your time would be better spent…hmm, let's see…learning to fight?"

"Well…yeah. This is a war, Tina!"

"Yes. But we're Jodia. We shouldn't have to fight in order to help."

"Then how come _everybody's_ gone, Christina? All of the Combatants—even their apprentices—are on the battlefield, and a good number of Intellectual adults, too. And in the meantime, the Jodian Academy students just sit around the Headquarters, doing nothing, when we could be—"

The chime of the doorbell resounded throughout the room, cutting off my argument, and Christina fixed me a smirk as she climbed out of her chair to open the door. I looked back down at my book, scrunching up my eyes in a pathetic attempt to reign in very un-Jodian-like anger.

When I looked up again, my heart nearly stopped. Christina, her posture absolutely rigid, was standing in front of someone I never thought would appear in our doorway. _No,_ I thought, as she announced that she was looking for Christina and Natalia Tanner. _No. This is impossible._

* * *

Obviously, back then, I had a very different definition of impossible.

For instance, I never thought I would stand next to Obi-Wan Kenobi, listening to him mutter his complaints to an empty courtyard. "Why am I not surprised," he declares. "Anakin says he'll do something and then neglects to do it, or promises that he _won't_ do something and then does. Is that not what happened yesterday, when I told him _not_ to rescue his droid and he did?"

"Now, now, Master. It was a successful rescue mission, and it didn't do anyone any harm. Right, Ahsoka?" I feel someone set their hand on my shoulder from behind me and nearly jump, then turn my head slowly to look at Anakin Skywalker. He's grinning, but he fixes me a stern expression once he notices that I'm watching him. "Where have you been?"

"Walking around the Temple," I tell him. Anakin glances down at my wrist, where my comlink is supposed to be, and I add, almost defensively, "I forgot it in my room. I'll have it with me next time."

"Calm down, you're fine," he says. "I forget things sometimes, too."

"By 'sometimes', he means 'all the time'," Obi-Wan contributes, then ignores it when Anakin shoots him a glower. "You two go have fun," he tells us, beginning to walk off. "I'll see you both later."

Almost as soon as Obi-Wan is out of earshot, Anakin pulls me over to the side, bending down so that he's at my level. "Hey. Are you all right? You seem really upset, Snips."

My heart skips a beat. I should have figured that Anakin, who knows Ahsoka the best, would be able to tell that something's wrong. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Nothing happened?"

I shake my head, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

 _"_ _Ahsoka."_

I look up and give him a fake smile, hoping that it can pass for a real one. "I mean it, Master. I've never been better."

It takes Anakin a moment to determine whether or not I'm telling the truth. "Glad to hear it," he finally says, and I quietly let out my breath. "The Council wants to brief us on a new mission."

I raise my eyebrows. "Another chance for you to show off?"

He smiles. "You'll get to show off, too. But you're right. I'll probably beat you to it."

I smile to myself, meaning for Anakin to see, and allow him to guide me up a staircase and back inside. His hand is still on my shoulder, as though he expects I might run off or collapse if he takes it away. The latter might actually be correct. I feel sick again, sick with stress and disbelief and a million other things. All the chatter in the hallway blurs together until it collectively becomes one loud buzzing noise, ringing like a bell. I hug myself, waiting it out until my lightheadedness subsides, resisting the urge to let my knees give way and maybe slip back into a senseless euphoria. But instead, when the sensation passes, I take a deep breath and make a decision.

I'll have to pretend to be Ahsoka for a little while, at least until I can find a way to get home. What other choice do I have? Anakin may already be suspicious of me, and I don't know how long I'll be stranded here—or, if I'm dreaming, how long it will be until I wake up. I look around at all the people surrounding me, the ones who already know what they're doing and who they're supposed to be. Then I swallow hard and look down. For the first time in my life, I truly understand what it feels like to be lost.

* * *

"We've been hit! We've been hit!"

The panicked voice of one of the clones echoes throughout the gunship, and at once, something unfamiliar and terrifying engulfs me, an almost tangible sense of fear emanating from the people near me. My breath hitches. Am I…am I _feeling_ their emotions?

And then another question surfaces: Is this the Force?

Somebody seizes my shoulders and yanks me down into a crouching position. I turn around to see Anakin Skywalker, who's still holding onto me protectively, and grit my teeth together. _I can take care of myself._ He must be able to sense my annoyance, since he murmurs, "Ahsoka, you were still standing."

I don't get a chance to respond before the ship slams into the ground, the screeching whine of metal ringing in the air for what must be an eternity. Anakin's hands tighten around my shoulders as we make impact, and I shut my eyes firmly and bite the inside of my cheek. Something else catches my attention as well, though it takes me a moment to wholly comprehend what it is: the smell of smoke.

"Master…," I warn.

"I know," he agrees, letting go of my shoulders as he stands up, and it occurs to me that we've come to a stop. Anakin heaves the metal door of the gunship out of the way, using the Force to toss it effortlessly to the side, and something unrecognizable flares up inside of me when I realize that maybe I can do that. Maybe now that I'm a Jedi, _I_ can move things telekinetically…

"Everyone out, now," Anakin orders, stepping out of the way to allow the clone troopers to slip past the threshold, with me close behind them. Anakin brings up the rear, managing to herd everyone out into the grassy plains of Dantooine just instants before the gunship blows to pieces. I gasp despite myself, and he shoots me a look that I can't quite decipher. "We have to keep moving. Come on, Ahsoka."

I nod, falling into step behind him as I once again reach down to feel the lightsaber clipped to my belt. How is it that I've now met the Jedi Council, been on a spaceship, travelled through hyperspace—all in only a matter of hours? I keep expecting to wake up and find it was only a dream, but that hasn't happened yet. More panic wells up inside of me. What if…what if it never happens? What if I'm stuck here forever? But that's nothing I haven't worried about before now, so I force myself to set that concern aside.

A sound I can only describe as _metallic_ snags my attention, and I lift my gaze in time to see an army of hundreds of battle droids advancing in our direction. "General, there are clankers approaching us," warns Captain Rex, but of course Anakin has already seen them.

"Right," he says, a slow grin stretching across his face as he removes his lightsaber from his belt.

"Master?" I say hesitantly. "What are you thinking?"

He turns to flash me that cocky grin of his. "We'll face them head on, Snips. They're only battle droids. Nothing we haven't faced before." I can't help but think that I actually _haven't_ faced battle droids before, but then Anakin adds, "And we'll have to see whether you're finally able to destroy more of them than me, Ahsoka."

"Hey!" I cry, and he takes off, charging towards the masses of droids. I chase after him, thumbing at the hilt of the lightsaber until the blade ignites. Anakin has already leapt into the fray, so I do the same, taking on about a dozen battle droids at once. I slash through a few of their blasters, then stab through their chests or sever their arms and legs from their torsos. After only about thirty seconds, their wrecked bodies litter the ground around my feet, and I haven't even broken a sweat. I'm stronger than usual, quicker, more agile. Maybe that can all be attributed to the Force, as well.

I take a few backward steps, holding the lightsaber out in front of me, until I realize that I've backed up against someone, possibly even an enemy. My heart rate jolts, but then I hear, "How're you holding up, Snips?", and it dawns on me that it's only Anakin.

"Probably better than you are," I reply, angling the lightsaber blade to the left as a blaster bolt comes whizzing towards my heart. I just barely manage to deflect it back in the direction of the droid firing at me, then suck in a quick breath of relief.

Anakin scoffs, but I can tell it's intended to be playful. "Better than I am? Ha. Don't get too cocky, Ahso—"

The abrupt absence of his voice makes the hum of the lightsabers and ring of the blaster bolts seem somehow quieter than they did only a moment ago. "Master?" I say, realizing belatedly that my voice has emerged sounding breathless.

 _"_ _Move,"_ he commands, his voice instantly devoid of any humour, but there's no need for him to continue because now I've felt it, too. A sharp jab in my mind, warning me to get out of the way, right now, or—

I somersault into the air just instants before the exact spot where Anakin and I were standing erupts into flames.

* * *

 **Natalia comes from an alternate version of Earth, so her world is not quite the same as ours. (Except for the fact that Star Wars is still popular, of course.) You will learn a little more about this later on in the story.**

 **Also, the portal in this story is not necessarily connected to the one recently introduced in _Rebels_. I started working on this years before that episode aired, so I wasn't even aware of its existence at the time. :) But given that portals actually are possible/canonical in the Star Wars galaxy now, I may attempt to connect them at some point...**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading! Please favourite/follow/review. :)**

 **-Isabelle**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those of you who have followed and/or favourited. :) I hope you enjoy the next chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Natalia**

The explosion rages behind me as I hurl myself through the air, my heart skipping so many beats that I lose count. I eventually land in a crouching position and glance over my shoulder to check if Anakin's all right, but all I can see are flames and smoke and flying debris. I waste no time in backing away from the havoc, taking a couple of deep breaths as I try to think it through. Could a battle droid have planted that explosive? No. How could it have known ahead of time the exact spot where Anakin and I were going to be? Whoever planted it must have done so while we were standing back-to-back, deflecting the blaster bolts back at the battle droids. And the only way they could have done that without either of us noticing would have been…

"Sir, are you all right?" I turn around to see Captain Rex and a couple other clone troopers rushing towards me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I reassure them, brushing off my skirt and clipping the lightsaber back onto my belt. "I haven't heard from Anakin, though. And I think that we're up against a Force-sensitive, so probably either Ventress or Dooku." I glance upwards at the sound of another battalion of droids marching towards us. "You take care of the battle droids. I'll try to contact General Skywalker and ask him what we should do about the Force-sensitive."

"Yes, sir," Rex agrees, saluting me and taking off, the others close behind him. I adjust my comlink frequency in order to reach Anakin, then say, "Master, this is Ahsoka. Are you all right?"

For a moment, I only get static, but then he responds, "Yeah. I'm unscathed. Don't worry about me, Snips."

Over the comlink, I can hear the sound of blaster bolts ricocheting off of his lightsaber blade, which means that he's already engaged more droids. "Master, I think we may have another problem," I warn him. "The only way for someone to plant that explosive right where we were standing—without either of us noticing—would've been for them to levitate it using the Force."

A pause. Then, "You think Ventress or Dooku is involved."

"I'm _sure_ of it."

"All right," Anakin says. "I'll go try to find them, then. You stay here with Rex and the rest of the five-oh-one."

"Wait, _what_?" I demand. "No. I'm coming with you. You'll need my help."

"We don't know who our opponent is."

"Exactly!"

"I don't want to gamble with your life, Ahsoka. Ventress is enough of a challenge, but you're definitely no match for Dooku." His lightsaber hisses as it plunges through something—most likely a droid—and then retracts into the hilt. "Listen. I couldn't handle him when I was a Padawan, either. I need you to trust me, okay?"

"But, Master, I really think—"

"That's an order, Ahsoka!"

I flinch, shocked by the unexpected acerbity of his tone. "Okay, fine," I consent quietly. "I'll join Rex. You take care of whoever we're up against."

"All right," says Anakin, as though agreeing to something _I_ proposed. Then there's a click, and he's gone.

I sigh, slipping Ahsoka's lightsaber off of my belt and jogging across the grassy plains to join Rex. "Any word from the general?" he asks, as soon as I come into his line of vision.

"Yeah," I respond sullenly. "He doesn't want our help. He's going to track down an unidentified but dangerous Force-sensitive while the rest of us hold off the droids."

The captain doesn't reply to this; instead, he continues to fire his twin blasters, eliminating quite a few of the droids in the process. The blade of the lightsaber is a mere green blur as it whizzes through the air, diverting blaster bolts and shielding me from any potential harm. I'm moving it so rapidly, my conscious mind can't even entirely process what I'm going to do next. Somehow, almost miraculously, I just _know_.

There are seven droids left now. Rex manages to shoot down another two, and I leap forward and slash through three of them. Blaster fire from behind me whizzes past my shoulder and strikes a droid to my right, in the spot where its heart would be if it had one. I grip Ahsoka's lightsaber hilt tighter and rush towards the last droid and then—

Splitting pain is shooting through my mind, and I'm sinking into the grass, unable to hold myself upright anymore. _Help,_ says a small voice in the back of my head, and then it comes to the forefront of my mind and screams: _Help me, someone, help…_

"Anakin," I hear myself murmur. "Anakin's in trouble…"

Someone's pulling me to my feet, and I turn to see Captain Rex. Both of his blasters are holstered, and the last droid lies destroyed about a metre away. I think of Anakin, who's possibly in danger, and for some inexplicable reason, panic claws at me. "Master Skywalker's in trouble," I repeat, louder this time, looking right at where Rex's eyes should be beneath his helmet.

"He told you to stay here, sir," he says, but even he sounds unsure.

"I don't care." I snatch away my arm and bend down to retrieve Ahsoka's fallen lightsaber. "Anakin's in danger. I have to go save him. He would do the same for me."

No one says anything in response to this, so I take it as a sign that I'm free to go. I shut my eyes, trying to determine Anakin's location, and receive a vague sense whispering for me to head to the right. When I start jogging in that direction, though, Rex's voice stops me. "Hey, kid."

I glance at him over my shoulder, my heart sinking in my chest. He's going to shut down my whole operation, isn't he? But at this point, it's not as though it really matters. I've put up a fight, insisting that I need to save Anakin, exactly like Ahsoka would. So far, Anakin, Rex, and the clones have no reason to doubt my identity, other than my brief slip-up back at the Jedi Temple. But if I'm being completely honest, another part of me actually _wants_ to rescue Anakin, even if I can't explain why. Maybe it's just the fact that I'm a Jodian; it's my job to save people. But I think it might be slightly deeper than even that. If someone were in _my_ place, after all, and Matthew were the one in trouble, I'd want them to help him. So maybe that's it. Maybe I feel as if I owe this to Ahsoka, wherever she is now.

Rex examines me, and for a moment, I'm sure that he's going to hold me back…but then he nods in acceptance. "Just be careful."

"I will," I promise him, a bit too enthusiastically, as I turn around and embark on my journey through the expansive plains of Dantooine.

As I'm nearing a small cottage, Matthew's voice surfaces in the back of my mind. _Focus, Natalia,_ he says. _You can do this. I believe in you, Nat._

Not for the first time, I wish he were actually here with me.

* * *

"Jodian Natalia, have you heard of Matthew Walker?"

I looked to the black-haired Jodian apprentice, who was sitting in the corner of the Lead Jodian Hall. She was the girl who'd shown up at my dorm and told Christina and me to come with her. And for the past ten minutes, I'd been sitting in the antechamber while the most powerful people in the Jodian Foundation spoke to my sister, fretting over what I could have done wrong to prompt the Head Jodian Council to send someone to fetch me. _I hadn't skipped any classes, I hadn't been dating or even crushing, and I certainly hadn't betrayed the Jodia to the Confederacy or anything like that._ And after all that concern, the Lead Jodia had asked me to come up to the five hundredth floor just to find out if I knew of one of the most famous Jodia ever?

"Yes," I said, redirecting my gaze toward Trevor Greene, president of the Jodian Foundation. The Lead Jodia had arranged themselves on risers according to their respective ranks, so I was forced to crane my neck in order to see him well. "He's apparently a legend, isn't he?"

 _Legend_ may have been an understatement. I'd heard of Matthew Walker's impossible feats from whispers shared amongst my classmates. He was so talented, he'd been accepted into the Foundation when he was ten—much too old for an ordinary student to begin Jodian training. And now he was one of the International Union's top Jodian generals, as I'd heard on the news.

President Greene laughed good-naturedly at my response, and though I relaxed a bit when he did, I still didn't dare to laugh along with him. "Some think so," he said. "Maybe you'll be able to share with us your own findings on the matter."

I frowned at him. "I…I'm not sure I understand, sir."

"Jodian Natalia," said President Greene, as if he were getting ready to explain something incredibly simple. "You and your twin sister have been at the top of your class for eleven years. Therefore, I've decided, along with the rest of the Head Jodian Council, that you both may need more of a challenge. That's why we're apprenticing you to Matthew Walker."

For a moment, words escaped me. I opened my mouth, trying to think of something intelligent to say, but the world was spinning, so it never came. I—at fourteen years old—was going to be apprenticed to Matthew Walker.

 _Matthew Walker._

I don't remember what I ended up saying to Trevor Greene. Half of it is comprised of fuzzy fragments splotched over my memory, a blurry image I can no longer make out. I saw Christina…she told me about her new mentor, Genevieve Turner…and then I left the Jodian Headquarters for my first mission, and I met Matthew and his former master, Lead Jodian Oliver Rivera.

But…but then there's the other half—

* * *

Thirty hours later, I found myself curled up on the ground, clutching a thin blanket to my chest. Rocks beneath me bit viciously into my back, despite any attempts to rearrange myself. My uniform—my brand new uniform—was already stained with dried blood. Yet a flimsy tent stretched above my head. That was considered a luxury. Only the Jodia got a tent.

I was pretending to sleep. I had taken out my fishtail braid so that my dark hair fell over my eyes. A few strands were in my mouth.

 _A lifeless heap on the ground…a flash of—_

 _Don't think it, don't think it, just don't_ think _of that image, Natalia!_

 _—_ _Of red hair, and her blood—_

 _Stop. No. You aren't going to think this, you're going to st—_

 _Her blood, dripping…dripping…_

 _And I pressed the emerald on my sword, and the blade disappeared…into the hilt…and when it came out…_

 _There was no red anymore…I could have forgotten her…_

 _I didn't want to, I didn't want to…but he said I had to, or I might have been the one lying there…lifeless…dead…_

"I'm worried about Natalia." That was Matthew's voice, which didn't make any sense. He was _worried_ about me? "She won't talk to me."

"That's nothing new," Oliver quipped.

"No," Matthew said. His tone was dark. "I don't mean like that. I saw her eyes, after—" He sucked in a quick breath. _"Oliver."_

"What?"

"Her last name's Tanner."

"I know."

"Do you think she's related to—"

"Maybe." There was a long pause. I slowed my breathing. "She does need someone else to look out for her, Matthew. She's only a child."

"I _know!_ " Matthew burst out. His voice ripped through the tense quiet hovering in the air. I could practically hear Oliver flinch. I tightened my grip on the blanket, curling into myself even more.

Then everything once again fell swiftly into silence. "I know, Oliver," Matthew whispered, after a long moment. _"I know."_

* * *

I shake myself from my memories as I approach the cottage, which is surrounded by a wooden fence and a few windmills. I leap over the gate and push open the front door, which—curiously enough—has been left unlocked. Inside, I find a small, dark living room. There are a few worn couches in the centre, and holoimages of a happy-looking family adorn the walls. Numerous children's toys litter the floor, and a plate half-filled with food has been left on a nearby table. I frown upon noticing that it's at least a few days old, even though everything in the room indicates that there are people currently living here. So either they're not very good housekeepers, or…

…Or they had to leave in a rush. Because of the war.

A crash sounds from directly above me, and I slowly unclip my lightsaber from my belt. The stairs creak when I step on them, which forces me to move on my tiptoes as I climb to the upper level. Another bang sounds from a room to my left, so I rush over and peek inside.

The first person I see is Anakin, slumped against a wall that's beside a broken glass window. The metal of his armour has been split apart to reveal the skin of his upper left arm, which is now sporting a long, angry gash. He's not bleeding, despite the fact that the wound appears to go very deep; it must have been given to him by a lightsaber. Though he's still conscious, the look in his eyes is hazy, so I get the sense that he's just barely responsive.

There's another man standing before him, one whom Anakin's watching with an unfocused expression. He's considerably tall and wears a billowing brown cape, his rigid posture and tidy grey hair only further contributing to his distinguished air. The crimson lightsaber that he's pointing at Anakin's chest is the only thing that serves to reveal him as a Sith Lord.

The younger man's eyes flick up to the doorway, where I'm standing, and his eyes gain back some life as his already-pale skin blanches. _"Go,"_ he mouthes, almost hysterically. _"Go, Ahsoka, get out of here!"_

Count Dooku notices Anakin attempting to communicate with someone and turns around before I can take off. My muscles tense, refusing to let me move, even though I try in desperation. Dooku's eyes land on me, and he smiles slowly—maliciously—as he brandishes his lightsaber. "No," Anakin moans, trying to get to his feet. "Leave her alone, Dooku, or I'll—"

His opponent whips around and blasts him with blue streaks of Force lightning. A horrible scream escapes Anakin's throat, and he writhes in helpless agony. It feels as though someone has clamped a hand around my throat and kept me from breathing. This is the first time I've ever seen someone actually tortured in person, and I can't seem to rip away my gaze.

Finally, Dooku lets Anakin go, and he once again slumps against the wall, waves of electricity still crackling over his body. "I don't think you're in much of a position to do anything, boy," he taunts him, and Anakin moans in pain. I look between the two men, debating backing away, but I can't just leave Anakin here to be tortured by Dooku. Ahsoka would never do that. So I stand my ground.

"This is your Padawan, Skywalker?" says the count, glancing in my direction disdainfully.

"I am," I say, balling one hand into a fist as I clutch the lightsaber hilt in the other.

"Ahsoka, please," Anakin begs me. "Please get out of here, you're no match for him, Ahsoka—"

"She'll stay right where she is," Dooku says, holding out a hand and Force-pushing the door shut, then locking it. "If this child thinks that she can defeat me, then she'll get a chance to prove herself."

 _"_ _Ahsoka,"_ Anakin pleads.

"I'm sorry, Master," I say, igniting my lightsaber. "But I don't think I have much of a choice."

Dooku advances towards me, swinging his lightsaber gracefully, and I grip my hilt with both hands. I can hardly keep up with his strikes—as soon as I manage to parry one, his blade always seems to materialize somewhere entirely different—and after only a few seconds, he's got me pinned against the wall. "Well," he says, elongating the word. "It seems that you're not quite as skilled as your master claimed you were, during our duel on Tatooine."

Then he pushes his blade against mine, and the blood red tip brushes against my shoulder. I open my mouth to scream, but the pain of just being _grazed_ by the weapon is so terrible that nothing even comes out. Finally, and not soon enough, the count's blade retracts back into the hilt, but then he lifts his left hand and curls his fingers around some invisible object.

My stomach clenches as I realize exactly what he's about to do to me. Ahsoka's lightsaber hilt slips from my right hand, and now I'm reaching up to grasp my neck, as if I could actually pry off someone's fingers and prevent them from choking me. I can feel the pressure on my windpipe increase, then frantically wonder how long it will take him to break it, and I'm running out of oxygen and I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. Sudden lightheadedness engulfs me, and my vision starts to swim…and I still can't breathe…just a little bit longer, hold on, don't pass out, try to remain conscious…but I can't, I can't, not any longer, please…

"You never should have gotten involved in this, little girl." Dooku's voice buzzes in my ears, and panic courses through me as the Force tightens around my neck. I need oxygen _now_ or I'm going to pass out, or die, or—

Suddenly, my body is dropped to the ground, and I land on my hands and knees, gasping for air. Before now, I never would have thought that oxygen could have an actual taste, but it does, and it's so good. When I look up, Dooku has turned away from me, and I can't help but notice that he's now sporting a long lightsaber slash across his back, which has sliced into his expensive cape and robes. The wound itself doesn't look as though it goes very deep, but it was apparently enough for Dooku to turn his attention away from me and direct it towards Anakin.

The younger of the two men is holding his blue lightsaber in his right hand, his eyes blazing with fury. "I warned you," he growls, the sound of his voice almost guttural. "If you try to hurt her, I'll kill you!"

With those words, he raises his lightsaber above his head and rapidly brings it down upon Dooku's blade, striking again and again as he drives the count across the room. But Anakin loses his stamina quickly, especially with his already-injured arm; after only a couple of strikes, he tires, giving Dooku the opportunity to Force-push him against the nearest wall. The older of the two men then temporarily traps Anakin in place by telekinetically shoving a dresser up against him. "You aren't quite as strong as you think, young Skywalker," he says. "And your arrogance shall be the end of you."

I snatch up Ahsoka's lightsaber and leap to my feet, throwing myself in front of Anakin just instants before Dooku would have been able to deliver a fatal blow. Instead of looking annoyed, though, his lips twist into a sinister smirk. "Trying to come to your master's rescue?" he says, over the sound of our blades hissing. "I thought you had already learned your lesson."

He aggressively Force-pushes me to the side, and my body slams into the hardwood floor, twisted at an awkward angle. Jarring pain shoots through my left hip, and the lightsaber, which has also clattered to the ground, is out of my reach. But something compels me to hold out my hand, and suddenly it's floating towards me, the sensation of beckoning the weapon as natural as moving an arm or a leg.

I pick myself off the ground and brush off my skirt and leggings, my muscles still burning mercilessly. By now, Anakin has freed himself and engaged in a series of rapid parries and strikes against Dooku, but it's clear that he's falling behind. We have to get out of here, I realize. Dooku is currently stronger and faster than either one of us. If we stick around for too much longer, we'll both end up dead.

"Master!" I cry, running in his direction and cocking my head toward the broken window. His eyes flick over to mine and he nods, Force-pushing Dooku away from him in order to give himself a chance to get away.

"Come on, Ahsoka!" Anakin yells, sprinting over to the window and throwing himself through it. I follow his lead, but just as I'm jumping up onto the windowsill, Count Dooku catches my ankle and yanks me toward him. I grasp onto the ledge with both hands and yank my body forwards, just far enough to peek out the window and catch sight of Anakin's dishevelled, light brown hair. He's rapidly skidding down the roof, totally oblivious to the fact that Dooku is preventing my escape.

"Master!" I call, and Anakin whips around, gritting his teeth when he sees my predicament. He scampers back up to the window, outstretching his right hand, and I take ahold of it, trying to drag my weight away from Dooku as Anakin yanks me towards him.

And then, finally, the count loses his grip, and inertia drives my body out of the window and down the roof. I dig my nails in between two rows of tiles, successfully bringing myself to a stop, and then pull myself to my feet, jumping off the roof just seconds after Anakin does the same.

We must run for miles, refusing to stop until the cottage is long out of sight and the risk of once again encountering Dooku—at least in the near future—has greatly diminished. When I decide we're finally safe, I tenaciously plant my feet in the ground, and Anakin glances my way. "All right, Ahsoka. We'll stop. But just for a—"

"No," I cut him off. "You're injured. You can't rush back into battle, at least not until your wounds are treated. You'd only put Rex and the rest of the five-oh-one in more danger." He opens his mouth, but I continue anyway. "We have to contact the Council to let them know that Dooku is here and we need reinforcements. Probably another Jedi general, as well."

He arches an eyebrow. "You're trying to get rid of me, Snips?"

"No, I—I'm serious, Master."

"Okay, okay." Anakin presses his back against the trunk of a nearby tree, giving a faint moan as he sinks to the ground. I sit next to him, crossing my legs over one another, and hesitantly reach out to touch his left shoulder. He immediately shakes me off. "Ahsoka, I'm fine. It's nothing the healers in the medical bay can't fix. Really."

I pull away my hand and glance down at my lap. Surprisingly, Anakin then starts to chuckle. "So. You've formally met Count Dooku. What did you think of him?"

"Um…," I start. "He's not the most hospitable guy."

"You could say that again." He nods, tugging off his right glove. "He cut off my hand when I was only a Padawan, at the Battle of Geonosis. Now I've acquired this lovely robotic one, see?"

I flinch when he shows it to me, but Anakin just laughs good-naturedly, sliding the glove back onto his robotic hand. "I thought you might react like that, Snips," he says, but then his laughter dissolves into solemnity, and he sighs. "I guess I really should be getting mad at you, huh?"

I fix my gaze on the grass. "Master, I know I disobeyed orders, but I could sense that you were in trouble, and—"

"I never said that I was actually going to get angry with you. Just that I probably should." He glances my way, lifting an eyebrow. "But since when does that influence what I actually end up doing?"

I grin. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

Anakin cuffs my good shoulder, shaking his head admonishingly, but a smile still plays on his lips. "Don't push your luck, Snips. But you're right. I might not have made it out of that fight alive if it weren't for you."

"Well, to be fair, you saved me, too," I point out.

"Oh, okay. So we're even, then," he concludes, in mock seriousness. "There's no need for us to feel obligated to rescue each other anymore."

"Yeah…," I start, "I'm not sure that's really how it works."

Anakin shakes his head. "You're right," he agrees. "Me neither."


End file.
